


Delivery Fee

by popkin16



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Time, Humor, M/M, Romance, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-11 23:31:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3336869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popkin16/pseuds/popkin16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney's life is not a bad porno, but the ridiculously attractive pizza guy that knocks on his door one night kind of makes him wish it was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delivery Fee

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thanks to my lovely, dear friends [Kiden](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kidenagain/pseuds/kiden), [PlacesBetween](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PlacesBetween/pseuds/PlacesBetween), and CS for looking this over and encouraging me to finish.

“Thirteen fifty-eight,” the delivery guy says, smiling at him.

Rodney blinks dumbly at him and Delivery Guy’s smiles turns to a smirk and he tilts his head down, looking at Rodney through his lashes. Rodney’s pretty sure his heart’s beating hard enough to be seen through his thin, ratty t-shirt. His face feels hot. Since when do people this beautiful work for mom and pop pizza places?

“Yeah,” he agrees, and continues to stare. The guy raises an eyebrow at him, looking deeply amused, and Rodney’s face burns more, turning what he knows is an unattractive red.

“I mean, yes, of course,” Rodney says hurriedly, but pauses with one hand on the doorknob. He can’t decide if he should leave his door open while he gets his wallet or close it, and he stands there awkwardly as he tries to decide. “I’ll - I’ll just go get the money,” Rodney says finally, and leaves the door open. He wishes he were wearing something less embarrassing than his atom boxers, wishes that he had brushed his hair and maybe put on some deodorant.

“You’re a dead man,” he hisses to Radek on his way past his roommate, who is hunched over his laptop, face scrunched up as he tries to hold in his laughter. Rodney thinks about hitting him with one of the many research books scattered about the room, but he’s trying not to make any more of an ass out of himself than he already has.

It takes a moment for Rodney to find his wallet. The entire room looks as though it’s not been cleaned for months, which may just be the case. Rodney can’t remember the last time he picked anything up. Radek is usually a stickler for cleanliness, but these days, neck deep in research and thesis writing as they are, things are usually just haphazardly stacked and left. Finally, with a noise of triumph, Rodney finds his wallet under a pile of research notes and a plastic case full of unsharpened pencils, pens, and highlighters.

Delivery Guy is now leaning against the doorframe, one hip cocked. Rodney can’t help but give him a once over, taking in the hair, the full lips, the stretch of his pants over his groin. How can anyone make that hideous uniform attractive? Rodney isn’t sure Sam Carter could pull that look off, and she has been all he’s ever wanted since he laid eyes on her.

Of course, her recent engagement is indirectly responsible for Cute Delivery Guy being on his doorstep, so Rodney is willing to give the universe a teeny, tiny break. This time.

“How much?” Rodney asks, fumbling with his wallet. He’s doing his best to come across as cool and unaffected, but Rodney’s never been good at hiding his emotions. He wants to squirm at how self-conscious he’s feeling, how he wants Delivery Guy to look away and never stop at the same time.

“Still thirteen fifty-eight,” the guy repeats. He’s still smiling at Rodney, head tilted sideways. Rodney mutters something in response and pulls out a fifty. He shoves it at the guy, who takes it without looking away from Rodney’s eyes. When he glances down, however, he frowns.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “but I don’t have change to break a fifty.” He looks truly contrite, eyes wide.

“T-that’s okay,” Rodney responds, “Keep the change.”

“Whoa,” the guy says. “Are you sure?” He reaches out with one hand to brush Rodney’s shoulder with his fingertips. Rodney shivers.

“Oh yeah, yeah, definitely,” he squeaks, “Very, uh, well earned, you’re a great delivery person, well done with the…delivering.”

“Why, thank you,” the guy drawls, grinning. He’s peering at Rodney through his lashes again, and Rodney wants very much to invite him into his room, but he’s hyper aware of Radek listening in from just a few feet away, of the detritus littering the room from two young men barely leaving their room for weeks, of his horrible boxers exposing his legs to the cold air of the hallway. He takes the pizza and sets it on the small desk by the door, then turns to face the delivery guy again.

The silence stretches. The guy seems to be waiting for something, though Rodney has no idea of what. He won’t stop smiling and peering into Rodney’s eyes. As the seconds tick by, Rodney feels himself growing more and more flustered. Give him a lab full of his so-called peers and he can take charge with ease. Put him in a social situation, and he crumbles like a poorly designed engineered project.

“Well, goodnight,” he blurts finally, and oh shit, he’s swinging the door closed on the guy’s surprised face, barely giving him enough time to get out of the way, and Rodney wants to die, wants to crawl into bed and never come out, because he just closed the door on the cutest delivery boy in the known universe, who - in immediate hindsight - had been flirting with Rodney.

He stands frozen for a long time.

“Oh my god,” Rodney moans, and bangs his head against the door three times. “I am an idiot.”

“Rodney,” Radek chokes. Rodney can’t bring himself to look at him. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

“I know,” Rodney moans, and sits on the floor, back against the door. “What is wrong with me?”

“Many things,” Radek says unhelpfully. “But this may just be the most pathetic of all. Terrible flirting.”

“I hate you. This is all your fault. ‘Send your cutest delivery boy.’ What were you thinking?”

Radek rolls his eyes. “You know what. I was thinking your pining for Samantha was getting sad. I was trying to help you out.”

“Do me a favor,” Rodney snaps, “Don’t help me.”

Radek nods agreeably. “I see now that you are unable to be helped.”

They sit there in silence for a moment, Rodney contemplating how long it’s been since he’d gotten laid, how long it’ll probably be before he gets laid again, given his lack of social abilities. He thinks about pretty pizza delivery guys with slender frames and long fingers, and sighs.

“You know,” Radek says finally, “You could have gone after him.”

“And say what?” Rodney snaps. “I’m sorry I shut the door in your face? He thinks I’m an idiot, I’m sure, and there’s no need to make it worse. I’ll never see him again, thank god, so let’s just leave it.”

Radek shrugs and turns back to his laptop. Rodney sighs and grabs the pizza box to move it to the tiny table in the corner, where a small space has been cleared for the box.

He isn’t hungry anymore.

  
+++

Rodney stumbles dazedly into his favorite out of the way coffee shop. His backpack is weighing him down and sleep is making his eyelids stick, but this is where the good coffee lives, and he’ll need it to survive other people with what’s left of his sanity intact. He orders two and has the first one half gone by the time the barista has finished ringing him up. He takes his remaining coffee and drifts toward the door, face buried in his cup.

“Mmm,” he hums, and doesn’t see the person until they’ve collided. The coffee splashes up and out of the cup, landing on his face and the front of his t-shirt. Frantically wiping at his burnt face, Rodney stares forlornly down at his ruined shirt. Slowly, he lifts his head and levels his best pre-coffee, murderous glare at the asshole who has ruined his day.

“Sorry,” the big guy rumbles, as he offers Rodney a handful of napkins from the dispenser nearby. Rodney takes them absently and clutches them in one hand. Too angry to bother using them.

“This is the worst day of my life,” Rodney announces. No coffee, a meeting with his advisor, and the certainty of running into Samantha Carter at the club meeting that evening. Rodney thinks seriously about going back to bed, he has never been a fan of naps - too much to do, to learn - but he thinks it’s something he could come to appreciate.  Especially today.

“Can’t be that bad,” a familiar voice says, and Rodney turns to see the cute delivery guy from two days before. Oh, of course, because why shouldn’t the day get worse? Why wouldn’t he have a run-in with the hot guy whose face Rodney slammed a door on?

“Coffee,” Rodney says longingly. The line to the counter has grown and he hasn’t got time to go back and get more. He’s so going home for a nap.

“Wait a sec,” the giant says, and hurries off. Rodney does not turn to watch him go, instead watching tiredly as the cute guy steps closer.

“I’m John,” the delivery guy introduces, quirking an eyebrow at him. With nothing to lean on, he has his hands on his hips, drawing attention to his slim hips and nice, jean-clad thighs. Rodney loses a moment or two admiring those thighs, then shakes himself away from the thought.  Blinking rapidly, still feeling fatigue dulling his mind, Rodney lifts his chin at John.

“Rodney,” he replies. He knows he should get going - he’s already running late, and his thesis advisor isn’t the most patient of men - but his brain isn’t firing on all cylinders yet, caught in an endless loop of nap thoughts. Warm bed, quiet room, and the sweet surrender of unconsciousness.

He wonders, idly, if John likes naps. Something about his laconic mannerisms makes Rodney think he’d be supportive of the concept.

“Rough morning?” John asks, looking disgustingly chipper. Rodney hates morning people.

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Early morning meetings were conceived by the same people who thought high heels were a good idea.”

John grins. “Wear a lot of high heels, do you?”

“What? No! I have it on good authority, my sister’s authority, that high heels were created to torture women.”

“High heels and early mornings, the work of Satan,” John drawls.

Rodney covers his mouth with one hand as he yawns. “Among other things, like exercise and tofu,” he responds. He notices John’s eyes light up as he laughs, ducking his head as though shy. It’s embarrassingly attractive. Rodney feels the sudden urge to impress John with his brilliance, dazzle him with his wit, and he would’ve, maybe, if John’s friend hadn’t deprived him of his coffee.

Speaking of, the guy has finally returned, a cup of hot coffee in one hand. He thrusts it at Rodney, his large hands engulfing Rodney’s gently. The heat makes the skin of his hands prickle. Rodney moans as the smell hits his nose and he takes several drinks from it before cradling it to his chest. The coffee makes him feel warm all over, and he peers up at John’s friend gratefully.

“Thanks,” he says. He smiles at them both, feeling immeasurably better. John blinks at him and inexplicably flushes when Rodney meets his eyes. They both look away at the same time; John out the large, store front windows, and Rodney at the one who brought him coffee, who is rolling his eyes at them. Rodney isn’t sure how to end this awkward tableau the three of them have made. He wants to talk more to John, wants to make him laugh again, wants to get to know him better.

He doesn’t know how to do any of that, can’t bring himself to invite John to meet up with him later. What would they even do? Rodney doesn’t know what John does for fun. He doesn’t know anything about him, actually, and just thinking about asking him out makes Rodney’s breathing go shallow with panic.

“I should go,” Rodney say, remembering his waiting advisor. “I’m running late.”

“You’re welcome for the coffee,” John says pointedly. He mostly looks amused, a little exasperated, and it makes Rodney’s palm sweat (though that could be the coffee). Rodney snorts at him.

“Yes, thank you for replacing the coffee you spilled all over me,” he replies. Despite everything, he’s feeling oddly cheerful now, and even spares them a smile as he shifts his backpack into a more comfortable position.

“Bye, John, bye…you,” Rodney says, uncertain of the giant’s name, and makes sure to brush against John as he walks by.

He has to get his kicks somehow.

+++

A week and a half passes without Rodney seeing John, although he swears he catches glimpses of him everywhere on campus. He kicks himself for not asking for John’s last name, though he’s not at all certain John would be in the phone book. Instead, he takes to hanging out at the coffee shop where they’d run into each other. He waves awkwardly to John’s big friend, whose nametag reads Ronon, but unfortunately doesn’t get a chance to speak with him, busy as it is.

Armed with his laptop and comfortably ensconced in a corner of the shop, the smell of coffee in the air, Rodney finds himself making decent progress on his thesis without Radek there to bother him about irrelevant things such as Samantha Carter (whom he has not thought of in at least a week). Although, he’s sure she’s out there being beautiful and brilliant and blonde.

The tinkle of the door opening makes Rodney look up. His palms grow sweaty as he takes in the sudden appearance of John’s lean form. He’s not spotted at first, which gives him time to admire John’s ass as he approaches the counter and starts a conversation with Ronon. He looks just as good from behind as he does in front, and Rodney’s anxiety about possibly asking John out grows.

Ronon points towards him and John turns, so Rodney gives him a shaky smile and a small wave. When he begins to walk Rodney’s way, he drops his gaze back to his laptop and mutters, “Oh god, oh god.”

“Hey, Rodney.”

“Hi! Hello. Uh, would you like to join me?” He gestures to an empty seat. John settles in, stretching his long legs out. One bumps into Rodney’s leg and stays there, pressed against him. It makes Rodney hopeful.

“Working on your thesis?” John asks, leaning over to peer at Rodney’s laptop.

“Yes. I’m close to being finished with the first draft.” Rodney closes the lid. It’s not that he thinks John is here to get a look at his thesis, steal his research - he doesn’t even know what John’s major is - but you can never be too careful. Rodney’s peers are jackals, every one of them.

“Yeah, I’m almost done with my first draft too.” John tilts his head toward the backpack on the floor next to his chair. Rodney leans forward, intrigued.

“What are you majoring in?” Rodney hopes it isn’t something in the soft sciences. John’s very attractive, but he’s not sure he can sit through a conversation about psychology or somesuch nonsense,  even for him.

“Math,” John says. He slouches in his chair and smirks at Rodney’s stunned expression. “Expecting different?”

“Yes! You’re so - and math is - that’s hot,” Rodney says, almost reverently. A hot guy who likes math and doesn’t hate Rodney on sight?

He really, really wants to kiss John.

John’s smirk widens into a pleased smile. “Hey, thanks.”

Rodney wants to know what his thesis is about. He wants to hear John say complex math out loud, wants to suck is his cock while John’s doing it. Rodney scoots his chair closer to John, making John sit up straighter. His smile turns anticipatory.

“So, uh,” Rodney begins, biting his lip. Most of his relationships so far have been late night, exhausted lab hookups, which aren’t exactly difficult to fall into. His attempts to woo Sam have really driven home the fact that interpersonal relationships are not among his many talents , and normally he wouldn’t give a damn, but he really wants John. Beautiful, apparently mathy, John.

“We should hang out tomorrow night,” John offers hesitantly.

“Yes! We should do that. Absolutely,” Rodney nods. “We should eat. Together.”

John looks amused. “Sure, food would be good.”

“But absolutely no citrus, I’m deathly allergic. Seriously, I will die,” Rodney adds. He grabs John’s sleeve and stares at him intensely. People never believe Rodney when he tells them about his allergy, and it’s important John does, as he’d like to continue his streak of five years without the need of an ambulance. John swallows and nods, his face serious.

“What time?”

“Any time is good for me,” Rodney replies. Radek will be glad to have him out of his hair, especially since Rodney plans to rub it in his face that he’s totally over Sam and going on a date with Hot Delivery Guy. Plus, by the time their date begins, Rodney will no doubt be due for a break from writing and researching.

“Six, then? We can eat and then catch a movie or something.” John suggests.

Rodney beams at him, bouncing on his seat.

They chat a bit more, John talking about his thesis and sharing stories about his advisor, Bill Lee. He talks about working for the pizza place to earn extra money and shares stories about the weird customers he’s had to deal with. Rodney shares some stories about his antics with Radek, about a prank that resulted in Kavanaugh losing all the hair on his body except what what was held back by his ridiculous ponytail, about the time someone who shares lab space with him set their backpacks on fire, and even a little about his sister Jeannie.

When Ronon’s shift finally comes to an end, and John prepares to leave, Rodney finds he hasn’t felt this comfortable with another person in some time and is disappointed to see him go.  He is heartened by John’s, “See you tomorrow,” however, and is smiling in what is in no doubt a goofy way when a thought occurs to him.

He stands suddenly, banging his knee against the table, and shouts across the small shop, “Wait! Tomorrow is a date, right? I mean, it’s not just two new friends hanging out, though I would, of course, be fine with that as you’re not a complete idiot, but I just, you’re very attractive, and I would like to, um, see you? Is there a possibility of, of -” he falters, hands in mid air.

“It’s a date, Rodney,” John says, and he looks happy and maybe a bit pink and Rodney wishes he had a time machine so it could be tomorrow already.

“Good! Great!” Rodney says, and now he knows he’s smiling like a brainless idiot, but he can’t help himself. He ignores the people staring, the giggles, and does a little jog right there at his table.

When John’s long gone, dragged out by Ronon, Rodney sits down.

He misses his seat and lands on the floor, hard.

But doesn’t stop smiling.  
  


+++

When Rodney announces it’s time to get ready for his date, Radek practically runs from the room, Czech curses and pleas for mercy trailing behind him. Rodney is glad to see him go, he hadn’t wanted Radek’s running commentary on which outfit to go with anyway, didn’t want his help at all.

He changes three times.

Eventually deciding on a blue shirt that bring out his eyes and a pair of comfortable, worn jeans. They’re only going for dinner and a movie, he reasons, and declares himself done after running his fingers through his hair. He can’t find his brush in the mess of his room, and anyway, John is the last one who should make comments on a person’s messy hair.

John knocks on their door and Rodney nearly stumbles over the clutter on the floor as he hurries to answer. He’s a little out of breath when he yanks the door open to see John in a tight black shirt and nice jeans which certainly doesn’t help with the breathing thing.

“Wow,” Rodney says.

“Wow yourself,” John says, giving Rodney a once over. One hand rubs the back of his neck.

“I just need to find my wallet and we can go,” Rodney says, gesturing for him to come in. He shuts the door after John and starts shifting papers and books around.  “Sorry about the mess, most of this is related to the papers we’re working on. Radek’s not here, he left about an hour ago, I think he was annoyed by me rubbing in my date. Ha! After all he’s said to me, he deserves a little jealousy. Have you seen him around Elizabeth Weir? A complete mess. He’s no better than I am, despite what he says.”

“You’re not so bad,” John says, standing very close. Rodney straightens up to find John only inches away. Rodney swallows and licks his lips.

“I’m amazing,” Rodney says, all his attention on John’s lips. This close, Rodney can smell the aftershave John’s wearing, feel the warmth of his body. Rodney curls his fingers around John’s arm. He sways closer. Everything but John feels muffled and unimportant.

They kiss, John tilting his head down and Rodney stretching to meet him. It’s soft and careful, both wanting to get it right, make it good. Rodney tries to memorize the warmth of John’s lips, the feel of them against his own, and when he’s committed it to memory he opens his mouth, inviting John in.

John tastes like mint, as though he’d brushed his teeth before coming over, and Rodney wishes he had thought of that. John presses closer and Rodney steps back, not to get away but to move this to the bed, because food and a movie sound nice, but sex is better.

Their kiss breaks as Rodney falls back onto the bed. John doesn’t waste any time joining him, climbing onto the bed and over Rodney. Rodney tugs impatiently on John’s shirt, wanting him closer, wanting him on Rodney. John quickly takes his t-shirt off, which Rodney thinks is a grand idea, and takes his own off too.

Things move faster then, the mood shifting. John’s biting at his collarbones, sucking on his nipples, and Rodney’s moaning loudly. His cock is hard and leaking, uncomfortably restrained by his pants. He thinks he hears a neighbor pound on their wall and he giggles. He starts fumbling with the button to John’s pants, hears his groan when Rodney gets them open and slides his hand inside. John’s cock is hot and hard and wet and Rodney wants to see it.

John slides off him and Rodney immediately misses his weight. He reaches for him as John tugs on his pants, sliding him down his long legs. His cock rests against his belly and Rodney leans down to slide his mouth over the head, dip his tongue in the slit. John’s groan makes him burn, makes him shift his hips. He wants, he wants.

John pushes him away, onto his back, and attacks the buttons on Rodney’s jeans. It’s a relief to have them off, and his sigh of relief turns into a moan when John wraps his hand around Rodney’s dick. His thumb rubs the tip, smearing the fluid, and Rodney bucks into his grip. Rodney’s so aroused it’s almost hard to breathe around it.

“You are so fucking hot,” John breathes, eyes moving from his hand on Rodney up his flushed chest. He pinches a nipple with his free hand and Rodney’s cock leaks more.

“Please,” he gasps. “I want - I want to touch you too, I want -”

“Yeah?” John says. His pupils are blown. John’s cock is long and slender and perfect. Looking at it makes Rodney’s mouth water, makes him ache with want for things he can’t name. He finds himself spreading his legs, silently asking for something.

John settles on top of him, between his legs, his weight and warmth welcome despite how hot Rodney feels, how much he’s sweating. John’s cock bumps his own and he gasps. He’s so hard, his cock leaking steadily now. Rodney reaches up and slides his hand down John’s back, cupping his ass. John moans and thrusts against him, rubbing their cocks together.

“John!” he cries, “Fuck, fuck, more,” and he thrusts back. They have some trouble catching a rhythm at first, but once they do it’s good, it’s so good, their pre-come mixing and making everything wet and smooth. Rodney wants to feel John come against him, wants to feel him swell and twitch.

“Gonna make you come,” John mutters, nipping at Rodney’s neck, “Gonna make you come all over us both, get us wet, fuck.” Rodney hadn’t known he’d had a thing for dirty talk, but he so does, and he feels his orgasm coming.

“Come now, Rodney,” John demands, thrusting against him. “I’m gonna -”

Rodney does as John says, coming hard against him. His cock jerks and come splashes against his stomach. He moans when his cock jerks and spurts, getting them both wet, and when John comes against him, on him, come dotting his chest, Rodney’s cock gives one last spurt.

They shake against one another, muscles twitching. John slides to the slide, one arm and leg still on top of Rodney. Rodney presses a sleepy kiss to the bridge of John’s nose, who tightens his arm around Rodney.

They sleep.

+++

When Radek opens the door to his dorm room, the cry fall from his lips before he can censure himself. “Eugh-yaaa.”

Rodney wakes abruptly, sitting up. The sheet slides down, revealing his chest but it’s nothing Radek hasn’t seen before - they do share a room, after all - but it is not usually covered in hickies, Rodney is not usually covered by nothing but a sheet, and Radek would like a time machine to go back five minutes and avoid this entirely. John’s laughing at them both, shoulders shaking.

“You said you were going out!” Radek says, closing the door behind him. He opens a window to let some fresh air in - and the smell of sex out - and turns his back so they can put clothes on. There’s rustling behind him, the sound of skin on skin, and he resolutely doesn’t think about what they might be doing behind him.

“Change of plans,” John says smugly, and Rodney laughs. He sounds happy, and part of Radek feels glad for them both.

“I hate you both,” he snaps.

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” John soothes, though he sounds too amused for it to be effective.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Radek comments to himself. “This has lead only to my own suffering.”

“I introduced you to Elizabeth, didn’t I?” John counters. He taps Radek’s shoulder, letting him know it’s safe to turn around. They are both fully clothed now, thank god, though still rumpled and flushed. Rodney blinks.

“Wait, what?”

“This is true,” Radek concedes. “The relationship is progressing well, too. Though not as well as yours, I see.”

John shrugs, unconcerned. “Elizabeth is a lady. It’ll take time.”

“That she is,” Radek says dreamily. She is intelligent and graceful, kind and warm and wonderful.

“Wait, do you two know each other?” Rodney asks.

“You do not think it was a coincidence that John was the one to deliver the pizza that day, do you?” Radek asks. “You had been moping about Sam for weeks and John, well. He happened to see you arguing with Simpson in the library one day and was smitten.”

“I’m not smitten,” John objects. A blush spreads across his cheeks and up to the points of his ears. Rodney gives him a warm, soft look the likes of which Radek had never seen before. Radek feels more of his irritation drain away.

“Smitten,” Radek repeats firmly. He is smitten himself; he knows the look of it.

“I had no idea,” Rodney said, reaching out to grab John’s wrist. John eases down next to him and nudges Rodney with his shoulder.

“I’m not good at...things,” John says awkwardly.

“Me neither,” Rodney says, nudging him back. They smile at each other and Radek is certain he has been forgotten. He ignores them as they kiss, quickly grabs his laptop, wallet, and the books and papers closest to him, before slipping out of the room.  Closing the door softly as he leaves, he wonders vaguely if Peter Grodin would mind a temporary roommate.

 


End file.
